Method to the Madness
by TheKnightErrant
Summary: Rat. That was the unflattering name given to a young boy in the mountains, a young boy with a black heart and blacker way of thinking. He was hated, despised, called a monster by everyone who knew of him and his deeds. This story will detail the merciless rampage across Nevada carved out by him and his cohorts, and the black spot he left on the world as a whole.
1. Chapter 1: Outcast

**Method to the Madness**

Chapter One: Outcast

There were bitter winds blowing through the village of Canabrava tonight. The kind of winds that killed anyone who wasn't wearing the thickest clothing possible, the kind that could freeze a man stone dead. It was nights like these that the elderly died and people starved, with the most determined folks eying their axes and carving knifes while carefully studying the necks of their friends and family. But nothing's set in stone, right? Eat the morning snow and you find the fresh corpse of a mountain goat.

Most folk in Canabrava would've preferred to live anywhere else but there, but it was a harsh reality they were forced to live with. No outside contact, no other villages, nothing. All there was It was a regular sight for mothers to throw their newborns off the cliff side to save them the torture of the merciless mountains.

Those mothers just didn't have the spine, did they? They didn't have thecare or mercy in their hearts to save a child. Selfishness in Canabrava gets you boiled alive, and everyone gets a piece of you so you wouldn't die entirely in vain.

But no one would dare boil an expectant mother alive, or any mother for that matter.

That night, a son was born to a widow named simply as Moon. Her husband had been a little too selfish one night, but even in his death he nourished and supported her. Any good husband would. She was old, one of the village elders, and with that age came some problems.

She had been a woman fair of face, someone the young village boys would fawn over and fantasize about. Unfortunately, she had made the choice to carve

up her face one night. She wasn't mentally ill, no. She just wanted to have a little fun.

She turned herself into a horrid sight, the scars that adorned her face made her look more like the twisted image of death itself, and she couldn't have been happier.

She couldn't care less about her son, but she supposed that it was her responsibility to take care of the little vermin. It did come out of her, after all.

So, she dubbed her son the unfortunate name of 'Rat'.

* * *

"Rat!"

Like an alarm, the bellowing voice of Moon jostled young Rat from his peaceful sleep. A shame too, he was having the greatest dream.

Rat groaned as he rose from his fur bed, scratching himself with disinterest. "What do _you_ want?" he said, refusing to look at his mother's disgusting face.

As expected, Rat felt his head slam against the wooden walls of the family house as his mother punched him in his jaw.

"Make yourself useful and go feed the chickens!" said Moon, dropping a bag of chicken feed on her son's bed. "I have to do everything around here."

Rat rolled his eyes, rubbing his jaw in attempt to soothe the pain. He always got a good chuckle out of his mother telling him that she did everything, when in reality it was him doing everything. She was an old, senile cunt. She probably couldn't remember her left foot from her her right without his help.

As he walked through his home, Rat noticed the mirror that hung on the wall next to the door. He supposed that he should make sure he was at least a little presentable.

Rat, like most in Canabrava, was pale and muscular. His short, blonde-brown hair had a slight wave to it, and looked greasy from lack of wash. He was considered to be fairly handsome, but he had a weather-beaten look from toiling under the sun every single day.

The morning snow crunched underneath Rat's fur boots as he exited his home and walked towards the chicken pen, dragging the bag of feed behind him carelessly. With his free hand, Rat opened the gate and closed it behind him as he entered. He counted each chicken silently, ending up with a total of thirteen. Seemed one of the chickens fucked off.

"Brought you shits some feed today. Eat up." Rat said, pouring about a quarter of the bag's contents onto the ground.

Rat stood still, watching the chickens peck at the feed. Then, he got an idea.

Quickly, he grabbed a random chicken by the neck and hoisted it into the air. As the chicken squirmed and squawked, Rat's lips curved into a smile.

With his other hand, Rat grasped the head of the chicken, and began slowly twisting. The chicken squirmed and struggled more and more, scratching at the air with its feet.

A sickening crack later, the chicken fell limp in Rat's hands.

Rat laughed, tossing the corpse at the other chickens. "Gotta keep an even number." he said, watching the chickens scatter from the corpse.

He picked the bag of feed back up, and exited the chicken pen. On his way back, a pale-faced, blonde-haired boy came running up to him. He was short, reaching Rat's waist in height.

It was some village boy named Sky, better known to Rat as 'the idiot who wants to be everyone's friend'. Ever since the two had learned how to speak, Sky was intent on becoming Rat's best friend for some reason nobody with half a brain could fathom.

Sky beamed at Rat with that same stupid smile he gave everyone in the village. "Hey, Rat! Beautiful day today! Congratulations on your tenth cycle!" he said, a distinct chipper tone in his voice.

Rat raised an eyebrow, and craned his neck to at the sky. As usual, it was red.

"Idiot." Rat pushed Sky out of his way so he could continue his walk back.

"Hey!" Sky ran in front of Rat again. "You didn't have to-"

Before Sky could finish, Rat's clenched fist slammed into his eye, sending him reeling. Sky started to cry, holding his eye in pain as Rat stepped over him on his journey back.

Rat noticed some of the other villagers rushing to help the child, all the while giving Rat some glares of disdain and disgust. Rat shrugged in response, an evil smirk on his face.

* * *

Entering his ramshackle home, he set the bag of feed down next to the doorway and walked to his room.

Well, it wasn't technically his room.

He and his mother slept together in the same bed, so he was always unfortunately close to her. Her advances on him while he tried to sleep didn't help either.

Of course, he found his mother doing what she always did. Sleeping.

Rat sighed. "Typical." he whispered, turning and going to the dinner table and taking a seat. A bottle of some kind of alcohol sat in the middle of the table, easily accessible if he so wished.

He heard creaking from the bedroom, like a heavy weight being lifted off the bed. His mother must of gotten up.

Rat steeled himself for what was to come as he heard his mother breathing behind him.

Slowly, she put her hands on his shoulders. "Hey baby, sorry about punching ya. I was hoping you would climb into bed with me." Her hands moved downwards along his arms.

Rat twitched in disgust. "I'm not tired. Leave me alone."

Moon leaned down and kissed Rat's cheek, and continued moving her hands down. "Oh come on, you seem so pent up. Mommy's here to help."

Rat shot up out of his chair, and turned around to face her. "Listen here, whore. I will not be taken advantage of by some hag past her prime, especially you." Rat spit on the floor in front of her. "Last warning."

Moon crossed her arms. "Why do you never accept my love, Rat? Isn't that what you want?"

Rat shook his head. "No, you dumb bimbo. Now kindly fuck off."

Moon grabbed Rat's arm in protest. "Son, you _will_ respect your mother. Now, come to bed."

Rat looked her dead in eye. "Let. Go. Now." His voice was cold, and there was definite venom in his words.

Moon frowned at her son, and her grip tightened. Her son had always done this ever since she claimed him, so the fact that he was doing this was of no surprise to her. Even when Rat now visibly shook, his pupils dilating and his breathing becoming quicker and heavier, she just brushed it off as him just being nervous about her touch.

As Moon moved her other hand to restrain Rat's free arm, Rat suddenly reached for the bottle on the table and swung it at his mother's head.

The bottle shattered, glass embedding into Moon's already scarred skin. She gasped in shock, and fell to the floor clutching her face, blood leaking through her fingers. She stared at the blood on her hands in utter disbelief, unable to understand what had just transpired.

In all of their time together, Rat had never fought back. Now he stood looking over her like a hawk with fresh prey.

Rat stared at the fallen image of his mother, and then at the now broken bottle in his hand. Now, the glass had a sharp point on the end, a makeshift blade.

He looked back at his mother, and slowly approached her, bottle in hand. Rat pulled her hair upwards, exposing her neck and forcing her to look at him.

If he could of, he would of saved every little second of that precious fear that he saw in those beautiful eyes of hers. It was as if the Gods made it his destiny to experience this moment. An act of revenge so desperately deserved, some redemption maybe. To him, this murder was sanctioned by the Gods, they supported the death of this whore that now laid so low before him.

Her mother stared at her son with tears in her eyes, horrified of her son who now looked at her like a predator. "Rat, my son, please. See reason!" she said, her voice cracking.

Rat only smiled ear to ear, his eyes widening in anticipation. The Gods's will shall be done.

Slowly, he dragged the sharp glass across her throat. Rat took in every little bit of her death; the hopeless look in her eyes, the flood of crimson from her delicate neck, the sound of her gasping for air as her tube was cut. Rat felt a feeling he could only describe as pure bliss as he watched until the very last second as life finally left his mother.

Rat let go of his dead mother's hair, and dropped the bloodied glass. Rat dusted his fur coat, accidentally getting some of the blood in the fur, and turned to leave.

That's when he saw Sky staring at his mother's body in horror. He only glanced at Rat before breaking into a sprint out of the doorway.

Rat sighed, deciding to give chase to the troublesome boy.

"Murder! There's been a murder! Help!" Sky kept running, but more villagers came out of their homes to see what all the commotion was about. "Rat killed her! Rat killed Moon!" Sky said, turning the villagers attention to Rat.

Rat skidded to a halt, glaring at the villagers as they stared holes into him. Realizing that there was no way to go forward, Rat started running back to his home, giving up on stopping Sky. Another day.

He heard multiple heavy footfalls behind him, and they kept getting closer.

Suddenly, he felt a massive weight land on his back, knocking him to the ground. Rat struggled and squirmed violently, but to no avail. Whoever had caught him had him completely pinned.

"Got you, vermin!" An unfamiliar and husky male voice, most likely belonging to whoever was on top of him now, kept Rat's head pressed in the snow.

Rat thought that this was, most likely, the end of the road for him. He would be boiled alive, hacked to pieces, offered as a sacrifice, whatever the residents of Canabrava thought up in their spare time. Oh well, at least he had finally got his revenge and enacted the will of the Gods who most likely now looked upon him in favor.

* * *

Rat found it odd that he wasn't dead yet.

He sat in chains before a collection of who were considered the 'wisest' in the community, most of them being old and decrepit fossils that probably shouldn't of survived the last winter. All of them sat in chairs on a raised podium above Rat, with one man in particular being raised higher then the others.

The presence of that man filled the air with a sense of dread, and it reeked so strongly of death and sweat that the judges around him had to cover their faces.

They called him Napron the Immortal.

Napron looked like someone had stretched skin over a skeleton without adding muscle, his leathery skin pale as the whitest snow. His few strands of equally white hairs were wispy and dead, most of it long fallen out. He was completely blind, his crystal blue eyes fogged over and looking around frequently.

Even though he had lived for multiple generations, his body simply did not. Now, he resembled the embodiment of winter itself.

Silence hung in the air like a disease until Napron opened his mouth. "Young Rat," Nepron's voice was shaky and strained, sounding like he was dying there on the spot. "You have been charged with the murder of your mother, Moon, as described by Sky. What do you say in your defense?"

"She deserved it." Rat leaned forward slightly. "You don't know what she did to me."

"You're right, we don't know," Nepron said, the slightest bit of disappointment in his voice. "But what did she do to constitute killing her? Did she really hurt you that much that she had to die for her mistakes?"

Rat glared at the old man, his frown deepening. "I have my reasons, and you aren't important enough to know them. You might as well kill me, so everyone in this disgusting village can bathe in the afterglow of my demise." Rat's face twisted into a wide smile, frightening some of the judges who now looked at him with clear disdain.

Nepron sighed. "I always knew that there was a darkness in you, boy. You are corrupted, and for that you must be exiled."

Rat raised an eyebrow. "You aren't going to kill me?" Rat's heart raced with anticipation. He knew that the Gods were in his favor now, and they would carry him to a new beginning outside of this pathetic court. Multiple scenarios raced through his head, images of the complete destruction of the village and the stringing up of its inhabitants all that he could think of.

Nepron frowned, as if he had heard Rat's thoughts. "You won't be walking freely so easily, boy. The people demand justice in some form, so I must give them what they want."

Nepron raised his hand, and almost instantly two men clad in plate armor appeared by Rat's sides. One of them held a long branding iron that had the visage of a wolf's head on the end that glowed an orange-yellow from heat, the other holding a simple wooden club as his tool.

Nepron pointed with a bony finger at the man with the branding iron. "You shall forever bear the Sign of the Wolf, a signature of your corruption and subsequent banishment from our village. May the Gods grant you mercy in the next life." Nepron nodded slightly.

Immediately, the man with the club delivered a hard blow to Rat's head, sending him to the ground.

Rat groaned in pain, his head spinning and his vision blurring as he lied there on the ground face-down. He felt himself be turned over, and through his blurry vision he could see the other man with the branding iron.

Before Rat could do anything to protect himself, the man quickly slammed the hot end of the branding iron onto his right pec.

Rat screamed in agony as his flesh sizzled and cooked under the branding iron, his eyes welling with tears as the scent of the burning flesh met his nostrils. For what felt like ages, the branding iron stayed against Rat's skin before finally being removed.

Throwing up on the stone floor, Rat rolled over in shock and pain. He felt his vision grow darker and darker, before everything finally went to an inky black and the voices of the men in the room were drowned out by nothingness.


	2. Chapter 2: Expedition

**Method to the Madness**

Chapter Two: Expedition

Rat slowly dragged a carefully sharpened stone down along the rocky surface of the far back wall of his home. It was a short operation, only taking a few seconds before leaving a suitable mark.

Rat took a step back to inspect the freshly carved wall of his cave-home.

The mark was unrecognizable from the thousands that spread along the walls of his home, each one detailing every day since his banishment. He had lost count long ago and all of these marks he made had simply become habitual. He had lost track of his age too, not that it mattered, anyways.

Ages don't put food on the table. It was only an arbitrary number in his mind.

Rat's stomach growled.

" _Shit,"_ he thought to himself, rubbing his stomach with his hand. " _Looks like it's time to go huntin'_."

Rat grabbed his bow and worn leather gloves. His hunting bow was the same kind that the hunters in his village killed with: tall and slow to draw back, sinew birthed from the hunting trophies gathered in a day, and unfortunately fragile if the wood was poor. At the very least, the broken bows served as good firewood.

As Rat exited the cave, he grabbed his small quiver that was leaning against the entryway. Rat did a quick check of his supply, counting twelve arrows before slinging the quiver over his shoulder.

Rat felt a shiver run down his spine as he stepped out. As usual, it was snowing, the little flakes of white collecting quickly on his bulky, patchwork fur coat. The white blankets of snow before him seemed to stretch forever over the horizon.

Brushing the snow out of his hair, Rat firmly planted a similarly constructed fur hat on his head.

Rat breathed slowly, watching his breath turn to smoke in the air as he stood plotting his next route through the mountains. He looked around for what seemed like ages, until he spotted a faint glow far down the mountain in the snowy valley.

" _Visitors again_." Rat glared down at the light, " _They_ _never know when to stop, do they?_ "

Once again, the lowland dwellers had brought their machines of metal to his mountains.

The lowlanders always had supplies of some kind, always superior to everything that he had gathered from the mountains. Maybe he would find some of those fancy fire boxes that the suited ones liked to carry around so much. Perhaps he would keep one this time around.

Rat slowly made his way down the mountain, stringing his bow for the oncoming hunt.

* * *

Emma Watts took a long drag on her cigarette. She watched as Agents unloaded supplies from the backs of trucks and set up tents, while sitting as comfortably as possible on a rock. Her employers had sent her and her team to this frozen hellhole; only a couple of Agents and ATPs protected them. There was something in these mountains; some kind of tomb or ancient artifact that held great power, according to the briefing.

But someone, or something, was impeding progress. Some 'mountain spirit' that took lives with a bow and arrow, if the legends were true.

Emma never bought into the supernatural explanations given to her by the pissed-pants scientists; probably just some animal that spooked them, or bad weather taking its toll on the minds and bodies of the expedition.

" _Maybe I'll encounter the evil mountain spirit myself!"_ Emma thought, a smile on her face.

She turned her attention to the mountains that towered over her, their peaks looking as if they pierced the red heavens themselves. They practically _screamed_ danger; Emma suddenly got the strange feeling that someone, in those mountains, was looking _back_ at her.

Emma took another drag on her cigarette, " _Definitely no cakewalk."_

She quickly turned herself away from the mountains, looking at the ground instead. But even then, it was as if some burning gaze was looking right through her, burrowing into the back of her skull.

Emma was shaking.

She shook these feelings from her mind, concentrating instead on the mission. These mountains were dead; there was nobody up here but her and her expedition, and everybody would make it out alive.

And there definitely wasn't some mountain spirit that preyed on hapless expeditions as a Sunday pastime.

Emma got up and walked towards an Engineer who was putting together a small satellite dish. She cleared her throat loudly, trying to catch the Engi's attention.

"Something you need, Miss Watts?" He asked in monotone.

"Yes, actually." Emma said, mustering what little authority her voice had, "Have you been able to set up the command tent yet? I want to contact HQ as soon as possible."

The Engi stared at her, as if processing the question like a droid. "Yes ma'am. The tent itself has been completed, however, the radio is still not fully operational. It will be fully set up shortly, assuming there are no further interruptions."

Emma huffed.

" _Oh well_." she thought, flicking her cigarette into the snow. There were more important things to do than dwell on some blank-faced engineer.

She entered the command tent, finally safe from the harsh winds and snow. Unfortunately, the lack of a heat source made the large and spacious command tent just as frigid. Seemed the Engineer failed to mention _that_ little tidbit.

Emma removed a carton of cigarettes, the box emblazoned with a large red stamp indicating the AAHW's approval. She pulled a single cigarette out with her mouth and tucked the carton inside the pocket of her red parka.

She lit up the cigarette with her disposable lighter, taking the time to brush her brown hair away from her glasses. Smoke billowed out of her nose, a feeling of calm enveloping her like a soft blanket.

"Where's a coffee when you need one?"

* * *

Rat watched the lowlander camp like a hawk. It seemed that this party of lowlanders had only brought along a few yellow-bloods and suited ones, which was oddly lax of them. Every other lowlander party had at least presented a _challenge_.

Rat smiled, hundreds of scenarios resulting in his victory flashed through his mind. Kill the protectors, steal the supplies, survive another cycle.

" _This is gonna be a cakewalk."_ Rat thought, notching an arrow and slowly creeping towards the camp.

As he got closer, Rat noticed something was off. The wind was picking up speed, and Rat felt himself almost lose his balance.

A White Wind had arrived, seemingly out of nowhere. All around him, snow fell at ever-increasing rates and was blown upwards. It blocked his line of sight and caused his objective to fade into the snowfall.

As Rat lost his ability to see, he moved as silently and listened as carefully as possible. He waited for one footstep in the snow, one breath; anything that wasn't his own.

A crunch of snow nearby. It seemed to be getting closer.

Rat turned all of his attention to the noise, which couldn't have been more than fifteen feet away. Unfortunately, he was still completely blinded in the White Wind.

Rat placed his arrow back in its quiver and slung his bow over his shoulder. He instead picked up a good-sized rock. No need to waste resources.

Rat slowly moved closer to where he last remembered hearing the sound, but it had fallen silent.

"Fuck, I can't see a damn thing!"

Rat locked onto the distinct sound of lowlander tongue, it's owner seemingly a short distance away from him. A man wearing a black parka and black glasses came into view.

Rat watched the man attempt to light up one of those paper sticks with those small tinder boxes.

This storm and the tent the man stood in front of would cover any attack, so Rat decided that stealth would no longer be a necessity.

Rat went on a full sprint towards his target, who quickly became visible as he neared him. He slammed the rock into the target's face as he ran past, sending the man to the ground.

Rat skidded to a halt, walking back towards his target.

It was one of the suited ones, but his glasses had been knocked off and were replaced by a large gash on his face. The suited one didn't stir or cry out, but Rat could see the slow rising and falling of his chest as he laid motionless on the ground.

Rat knelt down next to the man's head, inspecting his wound and looking over his body. Rat raised the bloodied rock in his hand, and slammed it down on the man's head again, hearing a loud crunch has the man's skull fractured.

Hitting the man until the top of his head became nothing but red paste, Rat's rock and fur coat were now soaked in blood.

Rat breathed heavily, his lungs beginning to sting from the cold air. He set down his rock, and begun to pat the corpse down to see if he was carrying anything of use.

Turning the body over, something immediately caught his eye; a Bowie knife tucked into the suited-one's belt. Rat's eyes gleamed, quickly grabbing the blade. He thoroughly inspected the knife, checking for any signs of breakage or imperfections, but it seemed it never saw much use.

" _Your loss, lowlander."_

Rat stood up and wiped his bloodied hand against his coat, leaving behind a streak of red. He enters the back of the tent, quickly glancing around the inside in search for anything of use.

Nothing. Just chairs and tables with a lamp hanging overhead.

Rat sighed.

" _Typical lowlanders. Nothing good to steal."_

Deciding he was not going to bother with the contents of the tent anymore, he peers out from the tent's entrance. He saw nothing in front of him, but looking to his left and right revealed two more suited-ones idling around with their backs turned to him.

Rat couldn't help but smirk, deciding that the one to the left would be the first to taste his blade.

Rat stood behind the left suited-one, knife ready as he looked him over. The man had one of those fireboxes strapped to his side, but he seemed more concerned with smoking then he was with doing his job.

Rat firmly placed his hand over the man's mouth, pressing the blade up to the man's throat. The suited one seemed to get the message, mumbling something incoherent thanks to Rat's hand.

"You, lowlander. Have you ever wonder what death like?" Rat said, keeping his tone as low as possible as he pressed harder against the man's throat with his blade. The lowlander froze, his breathing becoming quicker as the knife's edge began to draw blood.

Rat's smirk turned into a frown as he slashed the man's throat. The lowlander sputtered, trying to pull away from Rat's grasp as he held his bleeding throat with his hands.

Rat pulled the firebox from the man's holster and kicked the dying lowlander to the ground. He aimed the firebox at the man to his right.

A crack and explosion from the box. The other man fell to the ground.

Before Rat could even think to gloat, shouts in lowlander tongue grabbed his attention. Apparently he forgot the fireboxes the lowlanders carried weren't silent like his bow, but it mattered little.

Now, the fun could begin.

* * *

 _Gunshot detected. Three Agents dead. Hostile(s) unknown. Initiating group search and destroy protocol… Ready._

 _Objective: Defend Emma Watts. Do not fail me…_

ATP E-2351 shook slightly, his mask glowing yellow as small arcs of electricity coursed around him. He immediately stood straight up, ignoring the radio he was working on and removing his MP5 from his back. On his mask's HUD, text continued to pop up.

 _/7734: Attention all remaining units, please report._

 _/2351: E-2351 operational; ready for combat._

 _/7734: Acknowledged. E-4367 and I have located Watts and the others, please move to our position. E-7734 out._

E-2351 spun on his heel, quickly moving through the unusually quiet camp. All that could be heard and seen was the constant snowfall that surrounded him. No matter, it was an easy fix.

2351 pressed a button on the side of his mask. Immediately, the plain image that he saw switched to a light blue as his thermal imaging came online.

He looked around and waited for thermal to pick up something in the blizzard.

Nothing.

E-2351 switched off his thermal vision as he entered the command tent. His two squadmates, 4367 and 7734, stood in front of a small group of nine scientists, Watts included.

As the other Engineers reassured the civilians that the situation was under control, 2351 pulled Watts aside and away from the group. Watts pulled her arm from 2351's grip, a scowl on her face.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Miss Watts," 2351 pulled a CPX-2 from his holster, handing it to the scientist. "We are currently under attack. I advise staying alert."

Emma took the gun hesitantly. "Can you not handle it yourselves? I'm a scientist, not a soldier!"

"There is an approximate 67% chance of failure, due to current conditions. Please prepare to defend yourself."

2351 turned away from her before she could respond, walking over to his identical comrades who stood at the tent's entrance.

 _/7734: Reminder: Stick together. Divided we are weak, together we are strong. Find and eliminate the hostile(s) by any means necessary. Follow me._

7734 exited the tent, 4367 and 2351 following him wordlessly.

 _/7734: Activate thermal and connect vital signs to HUDs._

The Engineers all switched to their thermal vision in unison, and hooked up each other with heartbeat sensors that registered on their HUDs.

 _/7734: Fire at Will authorized. Move together._

7734 walked forward, his two teammates following him closely. The thermal read outs remained a light blue, with a few small greenish-yellow spots due to the heat lamps stationed around the camp. As they continued their walk through the camp, they came across the corpses of the Agents.

 _/4367: Severe head trauma from blunt object, lacerated throat, and gunshot wound to the head. Scans indicate that only one attacker was present, no group. Possible scavenger._

 _/7734: Acknowledged. Proceed with caution._

An arrow whizzed by 7734's head, hitting 4367 directly in the chest.

 _/7734: E-4367 deceased, locate hostile immediately!_

 _/2351: Target spotted, north rock ridge!_

2351 fired a burst from his MP5 at his foe. The bullets struck the rock's surface and sent sparks flying. The human heat signature ducked down and disappeared from view.

 _/2351: Attack missed. Close range may be required. Orders?_

 _/7734: Flank hostile left and be ready to attack. Do not lose sight of him!_

 _/2351: Acknowledged. Moving forward._

7734 and 2351 split off, flanking the rock ridge from both sides. As 7734 walked around the right side, he noticed 2351's life signs flatline. Tactical mistake on his part, most likely.

All that stood between the tent and total chaos was himself.

* * *

Rat pulled his knife from the throat of the yellow-blood, letting the dying creature squirm. He wiped the blood off his knife with the cloth parts of the yellow devil's uniform. There was no way he was putting cursed bile on his clothes.

Rat knew that there was still one more yellow devil lurking about, but he had no idea where. He started back up the hill, trying to make out anything in the blizzard. As usual, he couldn't see a damn thing. Rat figured that the other devil simply ran away.

This moment of confidence was quickly cut short by a gunshot in the blizzard.

Rat felt white hot pain shot through him as a bullet passed through his shoulder. The force sent him to the ground, flat on his back.

Rat groaned. The blood that leaked from his shoulder stained his clothes as the snow around him turned red. He froze as heavy footsteps approached behind him.

Seems the yellow-blood wasn't done with him yet.

Rat looked up, seeing the glowing yellow mask of the yellow devil and the barrel of his firebox pointed right at him. Rat grabbed the end of the gun and pushed it away from him; the yellow-blood squeezed down the trigger on instinct, sending a flurry of bullets into the snow.

With the yellow devil's knee pit exposed, he stabbed the soft and thinly armored flesh, his blade digging in and stopping at the back of the knee cap.

The yellow devil fell to the ground as Rat pulled the blade away, leaving his neck exposed.

Rat grinned as he raised his knife high into the air, shoving it down towards the devil's neck. The devil rolled out of the way last second.

Rat felt the creature's fist slam into his unprotected jaw, sending him reeling. No time for thinking. Rat retreated back, out of reach of another punch.

Rat raised his knife, the yellow and red blood coating it glistening slightly as he stared the creature down. One of them would have to attack first, but neither of them wanted to. The risk was too great for both.

But Rat wasn't one to take risk into account.

Rat charged and struck, the creature dodged and retaliated. Over and over again this exchange of blows repeated for what seemed like hours to both men.

Bruises and blood covered Rat's face, the icy wind burning his lungs. The yellow-blood's mask was cracked and broken, the visor's glow gone.

Rat couldn't believe that this one yellow-blood was giving him this much trouble; the others had gone down so easily. Rat spit a small bit of blood into the snow between them, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"I will not lose to a devil. You _will_ die here."

The yellow-blood shook his head. "Unlikely."

Rat threw his knife between them. "A game. The prize is obvious."

He locked eyes with the man for what he felt was the last time, and it seemed as if the snowfall itself slowed down as he stared at the yellow-blood. Rat had already pushed himself far too far; his muscles ached, his face was numb, and he felt his toes begin to succumb to the early stages of frostbite.

The yellow-blood lunged for the knife, Rat doing the same a second later. That one second was all that the yellow devil needed, grabbing the knife and lurching backwards as Rat grabbed at nothing but snow.

The creature stabbed down at Rat's back, Rat rolling out of the way just in time as the knife instead caught a part of his coat. He wrapped a hand around the demon's throat, slamming him to the ground with all his might.

Rat grabbed the demon's arm that held the knife, stood up, and slammed the devil's dominant arm down elbow-first on his knee. A loud crack and an even louder screech of pain, as the yellow-blood's arm bent backwards in a grizzly-looking U-shape.

Rat looked at the yellow-blood attempt to crawl away despite the pain, dragging his useless appendage behind him. The visage of his mother crawling away from him as he loomed over her.

Rat stood over the yellow-blood, using his free hand to dig into the man's eyes and pull him up by his eye sockets from behind. He didn't hear the screams or pleads for mercy anymore; he couldn't hear anything.

Even as he cut open the demon's throat and let the cursed yellow bile spill and drain from it's neck, he felt nothing. He felt no pleasure, no remorse, nothing. He couldn't even tell that the White Winds had finally lifted and passed. All he could hear and feel was total and complete emptiness.

He was exiled from his own consciousness.

Rat dropped the twitching corpse and turned his head towards the direction of the camp, but all he could see was the comparatively peaceful visage of his village. He had to burn it. All of it. There was no wrong with destroying those who had betrayed him.

Rat picked up the demon's superior firebox, and started back towards the camp.


End file.
